


Broken But Alive

by ApolloWings



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Death, F/F, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloWings/pseuds/ApolloWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to a prompt to make an evil character lovable or someone you want to hug. <br/>So here is Evil Hawke and a day where she does generally evil things (in game obviously) before the big gruesome 'I want to hug you - you sad puppy' scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken But Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to the warnings - I take no responsibility for your fragile minds. The fandom however - owned by Bioware. So blame them for the inspiration.

Do this oh great Champion of Kirkwall! Do that Champion! Hawke was sick with having do errands for every sod who couldn't think for themselves.

And she was in the middle of something dammit! She chucked her dagger into the wall and stalked out of her room. "Sweet thing... these ties... don't leave me burning here while I need you." Hawke turned back around at her lover's words, a feral grin lighting up her pale face and she brushed her red leather glove through her hair, just staring at the naked beauty she had spread eagle on her four poster bed. Tied with thick ropes at both wrists and ankles.

"Then you can burn until I come back." She said evenly, smirking at the way Isabela squirmed at her words. "I shan't be long sweetness."

"Hawke! Varric sent word that she's in the Hanged Man now!" The dulcet voice shouted from the bottom of her stairs. Hawke groaned again and slammed the door behind her to her bedroom, stalking out of the top level of her hard earned mansion. She picked up a new main hand dagger from her weapons rack by the door and waited for the lyrium imbued former slave to walk out before her.

"This had better not be another false alarm. I'll wring that fucking dwarf's neck if it is." She growled as she stalked past him. Fenris - for what he was worth didn't punch his fist through her chest. At least he had some self control.

* * *

Hawke pounded down on the streets, her silverite plating over her leather boots clacking on the hard stone, her unbridled anger at the sights afforded her. Fellow Fereldens whoring themselves on the street to Marchers that barely hid their own disgust, children ragged and thin in the shadows, their scrawny fingers reaching out for the odd copper that could be thrown their way.

It brought back every memory of scraping warehouse floors for the odd bit herself in the attempt to get them the mansion she lived in now. Her cold empty mansion. Carver was the first one who'd died. His arrogance that he could stand against an Ogre. She tried to be witty and funny still after that. Tried to find some mirth in an otherwise bleak existence.

Then Bethany. Sweet Bethany that wouldn't harm a fly had been tainted in the Deep Roads. That fucking abomination had never warned her and it was her own dagger that took her sweet sister's life.

She'd become less cheerful after that, her aggression needed an outlet and Kirkwall had delivered. Her jokes became darker and her blades sharper. You couldn't trust anyone. She'd thought she could trust Isabela and had taken the pirate into her bed, shared the soft, yielding person beneath the thick leather and dark humour.

Then that blood mage had taken her mother. She'd all but forgotten how to joke after that. Fell straight into slicing through the underbelly of Kirkwall to find some nugget of goodness and truth beneath this horridness that overwhelmed her. She'd sworn every blood mage, every abomination would die or get thrown into the Maker forsaken Gallows circle for that.

Merrill had been taken easily by the squad of templars. They'd branded that tattooed Dalish elf on the forehead and now she walked the Gallows courtyard as emotionless as Hawke felt.

Anders was proving more stubborn. His Warden training meaning he killed templars ruthlessly whenever she had them raid the clinics he set up. The abomination was powerful but she'd see him taken down. Magic was corrupted from the get go. She should have seen it. And he was a dangerous one.

Nothing abated it. Nothing could bring back her mother but she would stop others from suffering as she had.

Then Isabela, the one thing she could be that person she had once been turned coat on her. Caused this fucking city to burn when the Qunari took to the streets. Of course the pirate had returned in the nick of time.

Hawke could not forgive. Not a single word would make her forgive. But Maker save her she wanted to feel something and so hacked the Arishok into pieces, trying to find her redemption in the pit of his stomach. She would always remember the burn of his stomach acid as she hilted her daggers in his abdomen. The first real feeling she's had in so long.

* * *

Wordlessly she opened the door to the Hanged Man tavern and the lyrium elf walked past her, his fucking nose held high as if he were better than her. Less broken.

Then he was at a loss for words when he saw his sister at the table. Hawke didn't listen as they drawled on at each other until she caught sight of the robes swirling down the steps from the 'guest rooms'. Judging by the look of pure horror it was Fenris' master.

"Is this your new master?" That was the first thing that caught her attention, that and the powerful swell of crushing blood magic surrounding him. Hawke could barely think. That magic caused her to feel so sick she couldn't move. Fuck this weakness that so Blighted her, this malleable nature that was her own fears. Seeing her mother's disjointed corpse, her head sewn onto other corpses of differing states of decay and stench. The smell of those flesh-preserving salts burned in her nostrils still after these three years. It made her want to spew her guts over the floor.

"Yours I presume?" She managed. Fenris looked back at her, a look of muted horror on his face and this Danarius smiled. The sight made her want to be sick more. She hadn't meant that! She meant 'you previous master I presume!' - she wanted to wipe that damned smirk off his aged face. Kill this blood mage until his blood covered her skin and she could feel the warmth of it in her very soul.

"I had wanted to retrieve him peacefully. I'm so glad you can be accommodating Champion." Danarius drawled before flicking his wrist in the air. Fenris' lyrium branding responded to the magic and the slave returned to his masters side, obedient to him again. She could not fight against both the blood mage and Fenris. It would be her death. No matter how wretched she was and deserving of such a foul death - she had not the courage to face her end.

"Thank you." She uttered to him before stalking out.

She didn't care any more. She needed to be away from his magic. She hotfooted out of the tavern and chucked her stomach out into the street, the burn of her own acid created by her body a wonderful numb against the tainted magic clawing at her skin. She didn't care. She couldn't. Such things were weakness. She could only make amends for her weaknesses by splashing blood.

* * *

Hawke managed to get across to the Gallows and half-ran to the Knight Captain. "Good day to you Hawke - so good to see you! Oh - you should be pleased we have apprehended and made Tranquil the mage from darktown. The blond man." He said cordially enough. She wiped the back of her wrist across her mouth, not even caring for the bloody bile and vomit that smeared on the leather or the way the metal spikes scraped her skin.

"Blood mage - Hanged Man. He has a slave that can activate lyrium in his skin to punch through chests." The Knight-Captain straightened out.

"Maker's blood!" He choked. "Thank you for telling me Champion. I shall see that he is apprehended."

Then she left him again. That was a problem created of her own weakness. That disgusting weakness that she had in the face of blood magic. It crippled her and she could not afford such weakness. She could only hope to find oblivion some way. Let herself over to need and want. Be powerful again.

If it meant that the slave now that had once been the free elf she'd come to call a... friend would have to die just to erase the magic of that Danarius. Then so be it.

* * *

Hawke stripped her clothes off as soon as she got back into her mansion, the cold of the living space a perfect thing for the coldness that surrounded her.

She was a monster. She was weak. The cold hardened her nipples and she welcomed the pinching and gooseflesh that raised her skin. It was how she should be. Cold. Indifferent. It was the only way she could be now.

Hawke pushed open the bedroom door and then slammed it shut with a hard bang, Isabela raised her head off the plush cushions and grinned at the sight afforded her. At least she could stir desire in another with this wretched corpse that she called a body. "I've missed you sweet thing." Hawke smiled at the words. She was a thing.

"I missed you too." She responded, crawling onto the bed and drawing a cold finger from navel to collarbone of her lover, raising the tiny hairs of her warm, dark skin. "How ready are you for me whore? I need to feel something."

Isabela just nodded to her. She could tell the other woman was bending to her will. And she needed to feel that power, that control over events and acts. Regain herself. Hawke smiled again at that but the smile would never reach her eyes again. She would not allow herself to be happy. Not while others could not be. Not when their blood stained her hands.

Hawke slowly trailed her cold fingertips down Isabela's breasts to grasp her nipple closest her and she twisted on the dark bud viciously - making the pirate groan in her bonds and arch upwards. Pleased with the reaction she stopped the pinch and soothed her palm over the large breast, cupping that dusky mound until she bent her head to the warm skin.

She suckled on that same nipple and drew it between her teeth, biting and flicking her tongue on the piece of flesh between her teeth until Isabela was crying out - whether in pain or pleasure the lines were blurred. They would be forever blurred and her other hand slipped downwards to her shaved smooth sex, her fingers deftly slipping between her slick folds. "You are enjoying this aren't you." Hawke growled into that nipple. The words not a question but a command.

Isabela whimpered to her in response, words would not abate her and she rubbed her fingers on the pirate's swollen nub, that warmth of her juices lubricating her cold fingers against something so warm. So pliant beneath her touch.

The woman struggled in her bonds, her sex bucking up into her hand to help seek what she wanted. Hawke tutted and shook her head. "You should know better Isabela. I do not let you cum until you beg me." Hawke needed this control.

Isabela bit her lip, the golden piercing below it bobbing with the movement and Hawke watched fascinated as the pirate gulped.

She could feel the want coiling in her loins at the sense of control. She needed to regain this modicum of herself and so straddled the woman, sighing at the ecstasy of warm against cold, each of their wet cunts just in close proximity to each other as she languidly leant into the other woman, claiming her lips.

Hawke closed her eyes and crawled down her, peppering her lover's skin with nipping bites and licking the darkening flesh to soothe that pain there before continuing downwards until she had her tongue flat against her dark pink folds, lapping at Isabela's juices when he changed angle and slipped her tongue into that taut cunt, flexing it within her and drawing pants and 'Maker's from her.

She hummed in satisfaction and drove her tongue in further, grasping her fingers in harshly into the round globes of her ass until the pirate was keening for it and she stopped. Isabela looked up at her and narrowed her eyes in silent want and disappointment that her climax hadn't been reached. Hawke blinked for a few moments, letting her lover settle for what they both knew was coming.

Hawke slipped off the bed and pulled her dagger off the wall and chopped the bonds holding Isabela down. The pirate brought her legs and arms together, rubbing at the markings before realising herself. Hawke sat prone on the bed, drawing the coverlets closer to herself and Isabela curled up close to her, nipping at that juncture between shoulder and neck.

Hawke sighed, giving herself over to that feeling of having attentions laved on her before she stilled again and sprung into action. She pinned Isabela to the bed again and held her arms above her head with one hand, the other hand delving two fingers into her wetness again and her thumb rubbing vigorous little circles on her pearl until the other woman was sweating and keening with need and desire, coming undone over her dexterous fingers until panting and heaving for breath when Hawke claimed her swollen lips again.

She kept her fingers within that slick cunt, feeling the pulse aftermath and twitching shocks of orgasm evident in her lover before she removed herself. "Thank you." She choked. Her own climax would never come and she could not allow herself such pleasures. But it was something for her to bring that pleasure for another.

"Hawke. You can try again. You don't have to lock yourself away." Isabela trailed a hand on the flat abdomen of her lover, gently touching where the Arishok has scarred her, those red scars had faded to a pink and she always felt such guilt over the way it had been for her sake.

"No. I deserve no less." Hawke replied before Isabela trailed that hand back up and touched her face, cupping that pallid cheek with her warm hand and rubbing her thumb on that place where a tear should have fallen but Hawke would never let herself over to that weakness. Not any more. That soft yielding woman was gone and had been replaced by a shell that Isabela couldn't help but feel like she'd made. "Go."

Isabela claimed her lips then, lingering there and pressing her warm body against the other so cold. "Not again. Not while you're like this." She whispered, carding her dark fingers into Hawke's black hair. "You need me."

"I need nothing now. Leave me be until I _do_ need you." Was the terse reply.

"Let me show you that you can feel again." Isabela soothed. She'd hated this way Hawke had become and it needed to stop. She wrapped the fellow rogue in her arms and pushed her onto her back. She would make her feel the only way she knew and deftly let her hands part the other woman's thighs, slipping a singular digit into that only warm part of the woman.

Hawke tensed at the invasion into her cunt, the pleasure of it mingling with the pain of allowing herself to be so vulnerable until she could feel Isabela pump her fingers and work her thumb into her nub when the pressure built in her chest to her toes, the coiling heat deep in her loins.

The climax came quickly, so long had it been denied, the monster did not need pleasure, only to wallow in more pain and torture as it deserved.

Hawke cried out, tears slipping her eyes when that pleasure released fully, spasming into touch and need, want, just to be held and loved like a dangling light she could never have. Never deserve.

Isabela held her afterwards, curling round her to keep her warm for how she refused to cover herself with those expensive coverlets that no-one else would ever feel the luxury of. She'd done so much to save her family and it was all out of her control.

* * *

It was late at night when Hawke awoke to still have those warm arms wrapped around her and she slipped out of them, padding the floor barefoot to her personal study.

No-one else was allowed within. It was her space. She slipped on the silken robe by the door on a hook and tied it to her middle, striking a match to light the candle within before she closed the door after her.

She picked up a book from the stack and settled into the hard wooden chair, looking down at her audience as she flipped to the bookmark. "So where were we last. Oh yes."

_Hawke stood defiant against the Arishok, her tell tale smirk on her face again and she vowed to leave there alive with her lover. The Arishok smirked back and drew his two huge axes-_

"Pardon? Yes I know. That isn't how it went." She idly stroked the soft hair of her audience, her hand feeling like a violation to touch such a thing and she stared into those milky eyes. Eyes she loved. Could love still. "I miss you mother. I'll get back into the story."

And Hawke read to the preserved severed head in a hushed tone until the candle burnt down. She put the bookmark back into her copy of what Varric spun on her life before she blew out the dying flame and slipped back into the cold over her mansion again.

"Just like when we were ill in bed. You read to us then. Never left our sides mother. I'll never leave you." Hawke whispered. She stroked the engraved words she'd carved into the wood of the door in a fit of pique.

_Never be weak. Weakness costs you. Weakness is just something to overcome._

Then Hawke closed her eyes, the warmth of her eyelids so odd as she was overcome by how she'd failed Fenris today.

She failed everyone. It was her weakness that failed everyone. She was selfish and allowed herself Isabela. But pleasure was blurred with pain forever more and she smiled as she locked the door behind her and slipped back into the arms of her lover again.

She'd wake again soon and the day would start anew. It would be a wonder who she failed this time. Perhaps at last she'd fail herself and meet that sweet end.

**Author's Note:**

> So... comments?


End file.
